


I'm sorry, Mr. Pendragon

by bunnysworld



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnysworld/pseuds/bunnysworld
Summary: Things are confusing and frightening.





	I'm sorry, Mr. Pendragon

Arthur stared at the telephone. He needed to make this call bus he had never been so scared in his entire life. A life that might be over once he picked up the receiver and dialled the number.

Almost three weeks ago, his doctor has suggested that he got his chest checked and that had put Arthur in a mild state of panic. It had been weird to go to that place, being the only man there and the procedures of the Xray weren’t to comfortable. But the staff had managed to keep the tone light, so Arthur hadn’t freaked out and waited for the letter that everything was alright.

Only, that letter didn’t come. A week ago, he had received mail from them, that just asked him to come back for more checks. Telling him that 8 out of 10 people weren’t affected but they needed to check again. Alright, he sure was one of the 8, right? So he went back that Friday.

This time, he could barely hide his fear behind witty remarks and light chatter. This was scary. Especially when the doctor explained to him that the little lump the Xrays showed was really there, but even he wasn’t able to feel it. 

It still meant nothing, the doctor had said, but they needed to be sure and Arthur had agreed to a biopsy to be done right away. His mind had been racing and he had started sweating, panicked. He had been in lots of tricky situations in his life and had obtained small injuries like the one that would make him have a knee surgery the following week. Never before it had been anything that could end his life.

They told him to call on Tuesday and there was a weekend ahead of Arthur that he didn’t know how to make it through.

When he removed the bandage the following day, he stared at his chest. There was a little puncture where they had numbed the skin and the bigger one where they had inserted that weird-looking thing that took the tissue samples. Around those, a bruise started to build. 

Arthur stared at his chest as if it wasn’t part of him anymore. Why was there something inside him that didn’t belong there at all? What was it and how did it get there? And more importantly, how would he get rid of it if it was pure evil? 

On Sunday morning, he started up Google, only to close it again not even five minutes later. He didn’t want to deal with procedures and surgeries and chemo therapy until he really had to. If he kept on Google-ing this, it only depressed him more. 

The rest of the weekend, Arthur paced his place, slumped down on the couch only to jump up again to continue his pacing. He was constantly somewhere between ‘It’s going to be okay’ and ‘Alright, Leon might like my books and Merlin will get all the electronic things when I’m gone.’ 

Waiting was the worst. On one hand, Arthur wanted to tell someone; it was awfully lonely waiting for this on his own. But what was the use of worrying anyone when in the end it probably turned out to be alright?

So when Merlin had called excitedly on Sunday night to tell him about the five-day trip he had taken, Arthur didn’t say a word and just asked questions about what Merlin had done and what he had seen. 

On Monday, when Merlin had called again to talk about the upcoming knee surgery – as he had offered to come over and keep an eye on him after he was back from the ambulant surgery, Arthur had focussed on that and not mentioned the biopsy either.

He had no idea how he even managed to get some sleep the previous night, but now it was Tuesday morning. He had been up for hours, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, packing his bag for work as usual as he intended to go there once he had made the call. 

They had said to call at 8 am. In the twenty minutes prior, Arthur had gone to the bathroom about 5 times. He felt sick. 

What would happen if he didn’t hear what he wanted to hear? Even though he wasn’t 20 anymore, he was too young to give in to a malicious illness. What would that mean for his future? All the things he had planned, everything he wanted to do, his job? How would he break news like this to his family and friends? And when? 

Arthur hated when people fussed about him. He hated needles being stuck into him and he had difficulties swallowing any pills. He hated being dependant on anyone. Which he would be, if the answer he was about to get wasn’t the one he hoped for. The life he knew would come to an end. 

Five more minutes. Arthur blew out his breath and tried to calm down, but he couldn’t help his heart beating faster and that he started sweating again. The skin on his neck and arms started to tingle and his fingers started feeling numb. He had never been so nervous before. 

He had pulled up a file a while ago where he needed to do some editing, but he had stared at the words and numbers and nothing made sense. Arthur felt like throwing up, but when he had made it to the bathroom, it had been false alarm. 

Looking at himself in the mirror over the sink, Arthur wiped a tear away. He would not cry! This was ridiculous. Why did this happen? What had he done to be put through this? Was it some weird cosmic joke? He couldn’t laugh about it. It was not funny.

He knew that was irrational. It was nobody’s fault to get something like this. And looking at the statistics, he had found out that there were a lot of people out there who fought this fucking shit. Not even the fact that he was a man made him special in this. 

But maybe he wouldn’t even have to? Maybe they would tell him that everything was alright? Oh, who was he kidding? When something went wrong, it went horribly wrong, so…

How could five minutes take so long to pass?

Arthur blew his nose and tossed some water into his face with one hand. Everything would turn out okay, right? No, not right. 

There! 8 o’clock! Taking another deep breath, Arthur picked up the phone with trembling hands.

The blood was rushing in his ears and he didn’t really hear what else the doctor said. All he understood was “I’m sorry, Mr. Pendragon. We need to do something about his as soon as possible.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the most autobiographical thing I've ever written. 
> 
> Any good vibe you can spare is highly appreciated. thanks.


End file.
